


Night Without Stars

by Winds-Of-Thor (InfernoPunk)



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Led Zeppelin
Genre: Angst, Crossover, Dunmer - Freeform, Fluff, Gore, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Nord, Violence, breton - Freeform, i know the names dont work but please, jimbert - Freeform, jimmy is trash basically, just pretend they fit, maybe some slight bonsy, skyrim/zeppelin crossover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 20:13:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5018827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfernoPunk/pseuds/Winds-Of-Thor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dark Brother Jimmy Page is assigned a contract to kill Robert Plant, he goes on a hunt to find him.  Turns out, however, things aren't always as they seem and sometimes a choice can alter the course of destiny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cloaked in Shadow

The Bannered Mare was awash in the warm glow of the hearth and the lilting sound of a lute filled the air. It was nearly midnight and the inn was deserted save for the few who stuck around to sit by the fire and listen to the music.

A dark figure sat hunched over a table in the corner. A mug of flat mead stood sweating on the wood before him, untouched. A book with yellowed pages lay open beside it, unread. It was all for show, of course. Unlike the others, the hooded dunmer wasn’t here to drink in the peaceful evening or enjoy small talk with the locals. He was here strictly for business.

His body was stone still as his eyes flicked about like a snake’s tongue- tasting the air, calculating movement.

He watched as the barmaid cleaned a glass with a rag, her head nodding gently to the tune that was playing. She scanned across the room, taking a quiet inventory of the guests until her gaze came to rest on the dark figure huddled off to the side. She watched him, then looked at his mug, still as full as when she first brought it to him. Back to him, then back to the glass.

He reached his hand out to grab it and bring it to his lips. His ashen fingers coiled around the handle like a vice. From his peripheral vision he watched her watch him as he took a sip, letting the bitter liquid flow onto his tongue until seemingly satisfied, she returned to busying herself with the dishes.

Once he was sure she wasn’t looking he turned his head and spat the drink onto the floor, covering the small puddle with his boot. He was here on business, after all, and couldn’t afford to lose the upper hand by clouding his mind with alcohol.

With that taken care of, he turned his attention to the door on his left and prepared to keep his gaze locked there for however long it was until he could finally get to the ‘fun part.’

A creeping sensation prickled over his skin as he felt a sudden presence behind him. Joints tensing in preparation, he willed himself to feel the movement rather than turn to look. A soft vibration rippled through the floor, silent as the flapping of a butterfly’s wings. Feet, light and swift, coming closer to where he sat. Closer. In a languid, almost casual movement, the dunmer brought his hand to his hip where the hilt of his dagger rested in its leather scabbard. He inhaled sharply and shot to his feet; the chair beneath him screeched in protest and the liquid in the mug sloshed and threatened to spill over.

The entire tavern froze and turned to look for a painfully tense moment before resuming as if nothing had happened.

A clawed hand pinched his shoulder and forced him back down into his seat. “Can we save the dramatics for another time?” A familiar voice hissed into his ear.

Whipping his head around, he saw the jeering face of a leather-clad Argonian. He rolled his eyes and huffed a sigh. “Was sneaking up on me totally necessary, Veezara?”

Veezara chuckled low in his throat and sunk into the adjacent chair. “It’s a habit by now I guess,” he shrugged.

“Regardless,” the man waved dismissively. “What in Sithis’ name are you doing here? You know I’m a little busy right now.”

“Oh, believe me my dear brother Jimmy, there are a thousand and three things I’d much rather be doing. Astrid sent me to check on you,” the Argonian said bitterly.

“Check on me…?” Jimmy murmured more to himself than anyone else.

“You are the baby after all. And you know how she loves to dote on the babies.” An acrid taste filled the dark elf’s mouth at his comrade’s judgmental tone. He felt as though he should defend himself but at the same time, Veezara wasn’t entirely wrong.

“Sithis below,” the Argonian’s emerald scales flashed in the candle light as he shook his head. “Do you have any idea what the rest of us would do to catch a break like you, Page?”

His blood was starting to boil under his skin. He may have been the newest recruit but it wasn’t like he stumbled in there yesterday. He worked himself to the bone to earn his place and, as far as he was concerned, he had a long way to go before his place was anywhere near meaningful. His thoughts must have been painted across his face because Veezara’s reptilian eyes narrowed and his lips pressed together to form a thin line.

“You have no idea do you? What, did she not tell you or are you just even more of an ignoramus than I thought?”

“Tell me what?” Jimmy snapped.

“Your contract,” Veezara slurred slowly as if he were talking to a child, “It’s very _special_. In fact, everyone in the sanctuary, including myself of course, has been begging Astrid to assign it to one of us. Why, of all people, she chose you, I haven’t the slightest idea.” He took Jimmy’s mug and brought it to his lips to take a long swig. “The only reason I’m not fighting her decision even though I really _really_ want to is because we all know her word is law and she has yet to lead us astray.”

He stood up from his seat and braced his hands on either side of the table, leaning in close enough that Jimmy could see the shimmering of the scales around his mouth as he spoke. “I’m sure there’s a reason she didn’t tell you anything beyond what you already know so I’m not going to tamper with whatever she has in mind. But know this, _brother_ : we all know about your contract and we’re watching you. Closely. So, you find this Robert Plant and you make sure he is good and dead. And when you’re sure of it, make extra sure of it. There is a lot counting on your measly little shoulders and so you’d better not even think about messing this up.”

And with that, the Argonian was gone and Jimmy Page was alone at his table staring at nothing, feeling as though he’d just been punched in the chest.


	2. Down in Flames

Frigid water lapped at Jimmy’s calves as he closed his eyes and breathed deeply. The air smelled like the warm tang of decaying leaves. It would be autumn soon and some of the trees were already beginning to boast bright yellows and oranges.

Ignoring the bite of cold on his skin, the dark elf bent to wash his face. A mix of body paint and blood ran off his fingers and into the rippling water around him. It wasn’t his blood of course.

His contract hadn’t called for cleanliness- not in the slightest. Though he wasn’t told who issued it in the first place as anonymity was standard, he figured he or she was one furious person. _I don’t care how it’s done, just make sure Kalea Sablesword suffers,_ it had read. _I’ll pay double if you burn her house to the ground when you’re done._ And, being a dutiful dark brother, Jimmy followed it to the letter.

He could still feel the blood flowing over his hand like a liquid fire when he buried his dagger into her belly. With great care he sliced her apart until finally he tired of the gore. She was no longer fighting back and though the kill was meant to be a slaughter, Jimmy was certain she’d suffered enough for a few lifetimes. He picked her up by her long auburn hair and cut her throat, letting her fall back to the floor with a dull _thud_. Blood began to creep across the floor like a living thing and the dark elf watched it with fascination. He considered what kind of person Kalea had been before he hunted her like an animal and slayed her like one too. What had she done to invoke such wrath?

The adornments in her home didn’t give much away. In fact, it barely looked lived in at all. The mantle was barren, nothing was hung on the walls except for a plain little mirror in her bedroom. The only decorative thing to be seen was an ornate red vase on the kitchen table. Mountain flowers poked from its spout, wilted and sad looking. Kind of like Kalea herself, Jimmy thought as he strolled outside to finish the job.

Pressing his palms flat against the siding of the little cottage, Jimmy’s eyes slipped shut and he exhaled through his nose. He let that familiar heat rise and expand within his core until it filled every space of his anatomy. With a twitch of his long fingers and an almost orgasmic release of pressure, fire shot from his skin and licked the wood beneath it. Fat, orange flames, inky in the moonlight, crawled up to the thatched roof and hissed like a demon.

The dark elf pulled away just as the house began to groan from the inside. It was almost entirely engulfed in flame, pulsating heat that drew sweat from his brow. Satisfied, he turned and like a shadow, slipped into the forest and started his trek back to the sanctuary. Kalea’s body roasted in her pyre underneath the glowing stars of Skyrim.

Jimmy still felt her cold, glassy eyes watching him as he scrubbed the last of the carnage from under his fingernails. The humanity that he pushed aside for a while as he completed his contract was flooding back in as it always did when he was alone. He knew how this went; he would feel heavy with the weight of what he’d done until he was given his next assignment and then it would fade away again like a whisper.

He stepped out of the water and onto the soft moss to collect his clothes from underneath the weeping willow where he’d left them. He wrung out his long black hair until it was mostly dry and then hurried to don his leathers. The sooner he could get back the sooner he could request another contract and then he could forget about all the remorse pooling in his belly. Remorse would get him nowhere in these lands.

After walking for what seemed like an eternity, Jimmy Page began to seriously regret not taking his horse along for this excursion. Sure, he was more discreet without it, and travelling on foot helped keep him in shape, but at this rate he was going to show up covered in a layer of sweat after having washed himself earlier.

Just as he was beginning to consider finding another stream to bathe in, the great stone door of the sanctuary came into view.

_What is the music of life?_ It breathed into his skull.

“Silence, my brother,” he answered.

_Welcome home…_

With a loud groan the stone parted and Jimmy slipped inside.

The sanctuary had a dank, underground sort of smell wafting through it. Everything was bathed in candlelight and despite most of the furniture being made from slabs of stone and oak wood, it was surprisingly cozy and warm.

There was a wide table in the foyer with an old weathered map draped across it. Jimmy had spent many nights pouring over its fraying edges, formulating the best routes and side paths to take before setting off on a trip.

He cast his eyes over the old bookcase beside the table, shrouded in cobwebs and dust. Only a couple of books were housed on its shelves and Jimmy had read all of them. The history of the Dwemer, a guide to herbalism, and a few spell books.

The dark elf was pretty sure he’d read everything in the sanctuary and was so hungry for more that he would often snag books from the homes he raided and stash them all over the place.

He heard voices coming from the spacious room that housed the forge so he made his way to the staircase that would lead him down there. If he was lucky, Nazir would be there and he could ask for another contract.

Before he reached the first step however, a hand grabbed his wrist. It was Astrid.

“There you are, James,” she said. “I’ve been looking for you. How about you and I go to my room for some tea?”

Astrid was rather imposing even for a Nord. With straw blonde hair braided away from her face, high cheekbones, and piercingly cold, blue eyes, she was strikingly beautiful though there was far more to her than her physical attributes. Authority radiated off of her in the way she walked with feline grace, head high and shoulders back. Her voice had a hard edge to it so that even when she awarded praise, it sounded as if it were being said through the lips of a siren. She was the very image of sharp and dangerous and even though Jimmy had been in the brotherhood for many moons now, he still felt the need to tread very carefully around her.

Of course, it would have been blasphemous to refuse her invitation and so he followed her without hesitation.

There was already a man seated at the fireplace when they got to Astrid’s room. Without having to look at his face, Jimmy knew it was Arnbjorn, Astrid’s hulking half-breed of a husband. His arms were probably wider than the dunmer’s entire body and he didn’t doubt that if he wanted to, the werewolf could crush him to death between his thumb and index finger. Just, _pop!_ And that would be the end of James Patrick Page.

“Sorry, dear, would you mind giving our brother and I some privacy?”

Arnbjorn turned at the sound of her voice and regarded her kindly. It was almost comical how different he was around her versus… any other time, really.

“Sure thing. See you later, Love.” He came over and kissed her cheek. “Be good, Lambshank.” He gave Jimmy a steely glance before closing the door behind him. It truly was a wonder he could fit through the door at all with shoulders that wide.

Now that they were alone Astrid went about setting an old kettle to boil and putting out a couple of mismatched cups on a side table.

“Please, take a seat.”

He did as he was told and slipped into the chair beside the one Arnbjorn had previously commandeered. His heart was racing in anticipation. What could Astrid want with him? Had he done something wrong? Sithis below, had he killed the wrong target?

“Now, I know Nazir is usually the one to do this, but there are… special circumstances I have to work with here.” The blonde Nord poured steaming tea into Jimmy’s cup before doing the same for herself and sitting down. “I have a contract- well, hundreds of them actually- for the same person. They’ve been piling up here and I haven’t sent anyone out yet because I’ve been waiting for the right potential to come along.”

_Sithis_ , Jimmy thought, staring rather incredulously. Who in Tamriel could be so abhorrent that they would warrant hundreds of people committing the black sacrament for them alone? Did Astrid honestly intend to charge Jimmy with this person’s execution?

“I’ve been keeping a close eye on you, brother. I think you have what it takes.”

Jimmy was beginning to feel sick to his stomach.

“You’re very, what’s the word,” she stopped to purse her lips. “Resourceful. You follow our instructions to the letter and you don’t ask questions. Most importantly, you always get the job done. You see, we’re a small family but we’re very close knit and I love each and every one of you. The problem is, I know the capabilities of everyone here. This family as a whole is very cynical, we take things for granted, and sometimes, we get a little heavy handed. These are all great things, don’t get me wrong. Our traits all have their places in our work.” Astrid took a sip of tea and locked her eyes on Jimmy’s over the lip of her cup. He willed himself not to squirm under her gaze.

“You’re our newest member, James. You haven’t experienced the real hardships and discrimination the others here have. You’re simply task driven and unbiased. I need that for this contract to be done correctly. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes, Sister.” Jimmy’s insides were roiling. Astrid was charging him with a massive responsibility but the fact that she was putting it on _him_ over his comrades? What an absolute rush. He didn’t know whether to laugh or vomit.

“Good, then let’s get right down to business, yeah? Your target is a man by the name of Robert Plant. A Nord, like me. Blonde hair, blue eyes. Missing a tooth on the right side of his mouth. My sources tell me he stopped in Riverwood two days ago on his way to Whiterun. I want you to go to Whiterun, find him there, and I want you to kill him. Nothing fancy, got it? I want this quick and I want it discreet. Once you’ve taken care of him I want you to come straight back here, no detours, no stops. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Sister.”

“Good, I want you gone by first light tomorrow and don’t come back until it’s done.”

“Sister, if I may, what did he do?” This Robert Plant, what act could he have possibly committed? Jimmy was in awe.

Astrid smiled coldly and stood up, a sign that this little get together was over. “Let’s just say, times are changing and people aren’t happy about it.”


	3. Seeking Companionship

Storm clouds were beginning to roll across the night sky. Distant thunder sounded and the air was heavy with imminent rain. 

Worn gravel crunched under Robert Plant’s boots as he made his way up the path to the gates of Whiterun. The flickering light of a nearby torch sent his shadow into a dizzying dance behind him. 

“Good evening,” he greeted the pair of guards posted at the gate. Steel helmets hid their eyes in shadow and neither spoke a word as they mechanically opened the doors to allow the Nord inside. 

It was very late, so it was hardly a surprise to find the streets of the proud city nearly deserted. A couple of guards stood just outside their barracks drinking and talking amongst themselves quietly. Other than them, Robert didn’t see a single soul. 

“The inn’s just up that way, if you’re looking to settle in for the night.” One of the officers called to him. Though he already knew where to go, Robert waved his thanks and continued in the direction of The Bannered Mare. This wasn’t his first time in Whiterun but it wasn’t exactly a regular haunt of his. The city was no stranger to travelers and the guards were used to seeing new faces every day.

The market stalls just outside the inn were boarded up and abandoned for the night. They looked like wooden skeletons in the pale light of a brazier burning nearby. The fire started to spit and hiss as the first few droplets of rain fell from the sky. Robert just reached the entrance as the heavens opened up and it began to pour. 

The heat rolling out from the hearth seeped into his bones as Robert entered the cozy little tavern. A Nord woman in a plain brown dress stood behind the bar counting gold coins and placing them in a leather pouch. She looked up at him and smiled. 

“Well now, it’s certainly been awhile hasn’t it?”

“It has,” Robert agreed as he approached the counter. "How’s business these days, Hulda?“

The woman set out a glass without being asked and filled it with golden ale. “It’s starting to slow down these days. Not too many explorers out now that it’s getting colder.”

Robert sipped at the warm liquid and let the heat pool in his belly. “It’s skyrim, it’s always cold here.”

“To us maybe but we’re Nords, love.” She laughed.

Robert leaned back in his seat and let his eyes wander across the room. A young woman sat on a bench by the fire, reading a leather bound book. At first he thought she was the only other person in here besides himself and Hulda, but then he noticed a hooded man sitting alone at a table shoved in the corner. His face was mostly hidden by his cloak but the light from the fire illuminated the bridge of his nose and the outline of his lips. He seemed to be hunched over a book as well except his head wasn’t bent towards the pages, rather his gaze looked to be locked somewhere straight ahead. It was impossible to tell for sure though without seeing his eyes. 

Something about his posture unnerved Robert- the way his presence seemed to vacuum the darkness of the tavern around him. 

“So what brings you to Whiterun?” Hulda’s voice sucked the Nord from his thoughts. 

“I was just passing through and suddenly felt a bit nostalgic.” He said with a slight shrug of his shoulders. It wasn’t really a lie, but it certainly wasn’t his entire reason for coming here. He was a bit on guard these days, and as much as he liked the innkeeper, he didn’t exactly want to broadcast all sorts of personal information to just anyone. 

“You’ll be needing a room then, dear?”

Robert gave a, “Mm hm,” of affirmation and started to dig around in his pockets for his coin purse. 

“No, no, put that away,” Hulda said sternly as he set a few septims on the counter before her. “I’m not taking that.”

She told him to take the room upstairs and to the left and he stood to head up there. He’d been walking all day and his legs were sore. He said goodnight and the innkeeper came around to give him a friendly hug and offer him all the hospitality she could. "If you get hungry, please come down and help yourself.“ She said. "Oh, and if your bed is too cold I’ll bring you some blankets.” Robert beamed at her, truly touched by her kindness.

On his way to the stairs, Robert glanced quickly over his shoulder at the table in the corner. The man was gone and for a moment, the Nord wondered if he’d really ever been there at all.

He woke the next morning dazed and confused. He struggled to clear his head of a particularly insidious nightmare and remember where he was. I’m in Whiterun, everything is fine, he chanted under his breath like a mantra. He couldn’t tell what time it was, but the inn was buzzing downstairs so he figured it was sometime around midday. 

A mirror on the vanity beside his bed told him he looked like he’d just barely survived a Sabre Cat attack. With aching joints he stood and pulled on a belted tunic, smoothing out the wrinkles that had accumulated from sitting rumpled in his knapsack. He dragged his fingers through his mop of blonde curls until it looked semi presentable. 

Travelling for over a week now, he hadn’t had the chance to shave and coarse blonde whiskers were sprouting from his chin and under his nose. More stubble was lining his jaw and he thought about taking the time to trim it all off but… he kind of liked how it looked. A few more days spent looking like a true mountain dweller would hardly kill anyone.

He finished grooming himself and loaded his bag with the rest of his belongings. The smell of eggs and bacon was wafting up from downstairs and Robert’s stomach growled in response. 

After a late breakfast, he shouldered his bag and stepped out into the dreary, rainy day.

The merchants were at their stalls, pedaling goods to anyone who would stop and listen. Robert stopped to buy an apple from a woman running a fruit stand with the help of her daughter. It was more out of pity for the little girl who stood there, hugging her mother’s leg than any actual desire to eat more food. He’d save it for later, he figured. 

On his way up to the Cloud District of Whiterun, Robert couldn’t help but overhear an exchange between an old woman and a boy who couldn’t have been a day over eight years old.

“You know you’re not allowed to play with those little Grey-Mane wretches.” She scolded him.

He seemed to shrink away from her words. "But why?“

"They’re Stormcloak scum. Do you have any idea what your father would have done if he’d caught you instead?”

“Please don’t tell Papa!” The little boy wailed. “I promise, I won’t play with them anymore!”

Gods, Robert thought to himself. The war really had everyone up in arms, even the common folk who most definitely had never even lifted a sword in their entire lives. He was still shaking his head in bewilderment at how a land could become so divided that even children had to be dragged into the madness, when he reached the steps to Jorrvaskr. The sounds of metal crashing together and strained grunts sounded from the courtyard. 

He knew of the place though he’d never been inside. The Mead Hall of the honored Companions guild. The sons and daughters of Ysgramor himself lived in this building. It was a bit frightening to be showing up here unannounced, and uninvited. Should he knock on the door? Or just… kinda yell? He was somewhere between both of those things when a tall Nord woman stepped outside. Though her armor was light, Robert knew she was armed to the teeth. They probably all were. He face was covered in warpaint and her eyes were wild like the flames of a pyre. 

She regarded Robert coldly, sizing him up. "If you’re here to join, you’ll have to speak to Kodlak.“ She said.

Robert tried to offer a friendly smile. "Um actually I’m here to see Bonz- err, I mean, John?”

“Oh.” Her face took on a quizzical sort of expression. “Follow me then, he should be sparring with Vilkas right about now.” 

They rounded the building and the sounds of fighting grew louder. A large pavilion came into view with a few tables and chairs set beneath it. A row of training dummies were lined up just beside it and in the middle, two dark haired men were sparring in the rain. The shorter man wielded a sword in one hand and a shield in the other. He was playing the defensive side as the other, far larger and bulkier hefted a warhammer and was coming after his opponent with relentless force. 

The Nord woman cleared her throat loudly and the two looked over and lowered their weapons. “Damn you, Aela, we were just starting to get somewhere,” the smaller man lamented. 

“Sorry to interrupt but John has a visitor.” Aela said, approaching the pair with Robert in tow. She turned to him now and offered out her hand for him to shake. "Nice meeting you, umm…“

"Robert,” he offered, shaking her calloused hand gently.

“Right. Come on Vilkas,” she called to the smaller Nord. "Let’s give them a little privacy.“

The two companions wandered back inside Jorrvaskr.

"By the Nine, I don’t believe my eyes.” John said embracing Robert in a bear hug and clapping him on the shoulder with a gloved hand. "Robert Plant, it’s been ages.“


	4. Up In Smoke

Jimmy’s ribs were beginning to ache. Being pressed flush against the ridge of Jorrvaskr’s roof as the rain pelted him from above was proving to be rather taxing on his body. He was soaked to the bone and trying to keep from shivering; all his energy was being put into maintaining the cloaking spell that surrounded him. It was the only thing keeping him undetected. 

He’d heard stories of the Companions, just as every other person on Tamriel had. Arnbjorn had told him most of what he knew as he had ‘acquaintances’ inside. He knew that within the Companions there was The Circle. A group Ysgramor’s chosen followers that had been cursed (or blessed depending on who you asked) by the Daedric Lord of the Hunt, Hircine. These members were given the ability to shapeshift into a powerful and ferocious lupine form. It was because of this that he truly didn’t wish to be sniffed out. Literally. 

Magic hummed around his ears as the ward kept him under the radar. He pressed his fingers flat against the wood of the roof, slippery from the rain, and he ignored the stinging sensation that it brought on. The pads of his digits were singed and raw from the alchemy he’d done earlier. He was running low on poisons and hadn’t thought to bring the proper gloves with him on the trip to protect his skin from the toxic elements he was working with. Lesson learned, he sigh inwardly.

The dark elf shoved his thoughts to the back of his mind and put his focus into the task at hand. He was trailing a target that he’d spotted in the tavern last night. It wasn’t certain if the man was his true mark or not, but he had a pretty good feeling about this one. 

Jimmy was contemplating calling it quits the night before. It was nearing three in the morning and he hadn’t seen anyone who fit his bill. Exhaustion had begun to creep into his bones and he really just wanted to go to sleep and try again in the morning. It was then that the door to the inn opened and a tall man with thick, curly, blonde hair strode inside. He was a Nord for sure with his muscular frame and square jaw. He was supposed to have blue eyes but Jimmy couldn’t tell in the darkened room. He was trying to keep the man in his peripherals so as not to give away that he was analyzing him. That would look predatory for sure. 

He strained to watch the Nord’s mouth out of the corner of his eye. A missing tooth on the right side, Astrid had informed him. 

The rain pelting against the roof muffled the sound of their conversation. From what the Dunmer could tell, he seemed to know the innkeeper. They exchanged words for a while, the blonde man sipping honey colored liquid from a mug and occasionally rubbing at his shoulders as if trying to get the cold out. 

Jimmy watched as the Nord pulled a coin purse from his leathers. The innkeeper’s face made a grimace and she said something to him, pushing the coins he’d laid out back towards him. He smiled at her and then Jimmy knew. There was a tooth sized gap between his canine and a molar. It was him, it had to be. 

He left then to get some rest. His plan had been to trail him for a while until he could be sure it truly was Robert Plant and not some uncanny look alike. Astrid would flay him alive if he got the wrong mark killed. 

And now here he was, on the roof of the Companion’s hold watching as a huntress led his target to the courtyard where two Companions were dueling. Rain water was trailing through his hair and down his face, catching on his eyelashes and the seam of his lips. The dark elf was wearing a pair of buckskin breeches and a dark, leather jerkin over a white shirt. All fairly normal garb for a Whiterun townsperson. He had forgone his cloak which would have weighed him down once it was waterlogged and obstructed his vision. Not to mention, a man skulking around in a black hood and cape in the middle of the day would have made him stick out like a sore thumb. 

The sounds of steel on steel ceased and Jimmy’s pointed ears strained to hear what was happening over the constant pounding of the rain. The woman moved to shake the target’s hand, a gesture that he returned, before heading inside with one of the men who’d been fighting a few moments before. 

The remaining Companion drew the blonde Nord into a tight hug. “By the Nine, I don’t believe my eyes. Robert Plant, it’s been ages.” 

Jimmy fought the smirk climbing across his face. So he had been right. He crawled forward slowly, careful not to slip on the wooden shingles. He had to get a better sight on the target and then he could prepare his attack. At this rate he could be back at the sanctuary by the end of the week!

“What are you doing here anyway? Where have you been? By the gods I have so many questions!” The dark haired man was all smiles while Robert shifted his weight from side to side like he was uncomfortable. 

“Well actually, John, I’ve come to ask you for a favor.”

“Sure, anything, what do you need?”

Jimmy could see Robert pull his bottom lip into his mouth to chew at it. "It’s ahh… it’s my boy,“ his voice broke sharply at the end of the sentence. The dark elf found his own interest piqued. 

“Karac?” John asked with concern.

Robert nodded, clenching and unclenching his fists at his side. "He’s grown ill, you see. We’ve been trying homemade remedies and such but nothing seems to be working. I remember you had a friend who used to work as a healer right? I thought maybe you could point me in his direction? I would’ve sent a letter your way but I was worried it might get lost or something.“ He was trembling- Jimmy could see that from where he watched. Whether it was from the cold or the turmoil he was obviously dealing with, or both, he wasn’t sure. 

The hulking companion put a hand on Robert’s shoulder. “Of course, Percy. I think he’s still kicking around somewhere.”

Jimmy scrunched his face at the nickname. Percy? What kind of name was that?

An obvious wave of relief washed over the blonde and he visibly loosened up a bit. 

“Last I heard he was all the way in Winterhold, though. That’s quite a ways away you know. It’ll be a bit expensive to take a carriage there… if they’ll take you at all what with the roads being so treacherous these days.” 

Robert seemed to consider that for a moment. Jimmy’s own heart clenched tight at the way his face fell. He sort of began to collapse in on himself, shoulders rolled in, arms hugging his torso.

“Oh Bonzo,” his voice had grown so quiet. Jimmy was straining to listen. "I don’t know what to do… “

John pulled the breaking man into a gentle hug. It looked more like a protective gesture than anything. The dark elf thought for a moment that the two of them could pass for brothers. 

"Here’s what we’re gonna do,” he began. “I’m gonna pack my things and I’m gonna take you to Winterhold myself.”

Robert wriggled out of his arms and shook his head. “No, I can’t ask you to do that. I can’t take you away from this place, you have work to do here!”

Bonzo merely gave a crooked smile. “Then it’s a good thing you didn’t ask. I wouldn’t have said that if it wasn’t within my power to do. And please, a little break from Aela the Taskmaster would be a blessing.”

“But Bonz-”

“We’re gonna get help for your son, don’t worry, okay? Now just give me moment to get my things and tell everyone I’m leaving for a bit.” He gave Robert one more reassuring pat on the shoulder before turning on his heel and heading for the doors of Jorrvaskr. 

Now was his chance. Jimmy’s blood was humming as he crept closer to the edge of the roof. Robert was standing there, watching John leave with a pained expression on his face. The dark elf reached for the bow fastened to his back and had an arrow nocked just a moment later. The cord was pulled taught and his arm braced to hold the feathered tail in place.

Something stalled his hand. An aching feeling crept into his chest at the last second and held him back. He was one shot away from a contract well fulfilled and yet he paused. Why was he killing Robert Plant? It was an assignment yes, but before that… why was there even a contract on him in the first place? Hundreds of them, for that matter. If anything, the Nord seemed to be well liked and gods if he wasn’t the most sickeningly altruistic person Jimmy had ever had to observe. And yet, here he was, poised on a roof in the pouring rain with an arrowhead dipped in spider venom aimed at the man’s head.

His arm was getting tired. Keeping the cloaking spell intact was becoming a strain and a splintered shingle was digging into the meat between his ribs. Jimmy was going to have to stop overthinking every little thing and just do it.

He inched to the side to reposition himself, and as he did, the gods laughed. His foot slipped and his center of gravity was thrown off. In slow motion he realized he was rolling, sliding down the slope of the roof and his arms were occupied with the bow. He made the quick decision to let it go. Bow and arrow clattered noisily against the wood roof and he hoped the rain would drown out the sound, even a little bit. He scrabbled to grip something, anything, but his fingers were screaming in pain. One split open and started to bleed. He realized he was falling. Falling way too fast and he couldn’t stop. 

The world whipped past his line of vision as the ground drew closer. He landed shoulder first onto the pebbly ground and stifled a grunt of pain. The weight of the position he was now in hit him like a battering ram. 

Robert Plant sucked in a gasp as John, who had just reached the door, whipped around to see what had happened. Primal instinct kicked in and he considered playing dead. To his horror the ward had slipped and he was entirely visible to not only his mark but to the massive lycanthropic Companion standing in awe just a few feet away. 

This was bad. 

“What in Oblivion?” Robert rushed to head over to the fallen Dunmer but John barked an order for him to stay put. 

The dark haired man began to approach, his hand going to the warhammer strapped to his back and Jimmy knew he had to do something. Fighting the protest of his bruised side, he rolled back into a defensive crouch and drew the dagger he’d hidden in his boot. He’d go down fighting if that’s what it came to. 

“Who are you?” John snarled as he continued to draw closer. 

Jimmy couldn’t give his name. He’d be done for. White hot fear seared through his veins and his pulse was hammering behind his eyes. He was scrambling for something to get him out of this. What would Astrid have done? Oh Sithis, he could already hear Veezara laughing at him. 

“Answer me! Who are you and what were you doing up there?”

He couldn’t give his name. But he wasn’t coherent enough to lie under the pressure and if he said nothing, he was dead. He was dead either way.

Jimmy clutched the dagger in his fist for dear life and blew his own cover to pieces. "I’m James Page and I was… looking for something up there.“

Robert and John exchanged a glance. Jimmy was going to vomit. 

"What were you looking for, James Page?” The Companion spat venomously. 

Shit. “Um, a ball! My little sister threw it up there by accident and I went to get it back for her?” He winced as his own words left his mouth. 

“Uh huh… you know, I don’t recall ever needing a knife to go and fetch a ball.” John stepped ever closer and with the hand not grasping the hammer, he grabbed Jimmy’s wrist, tight as a vice. The dark haired man glanced up at the roof and narrowed his eyes once he noticed the discarded bow. Shit shit! “…Or a bow.” 

He was about to spout out some other excuse when he felt the hand gripping him bend his hand back unnaturally far. He let out a strangled cry as the bone cracked and the dagger slipped from his fingers and clattered to the ground. 

“John please!” Robert finally chimed in. His face was painted with horror and he looked pale. 

Still mercilessly holding the dark elf’s shattered wrist, the man turned to his friend. "Tell me he doesn’t smell like a snake, Perce.“

"Well sure it’s a bit odd, but we don’t know his story! Please, just let him go.” Ever the altruist, Jimmy said somewhere in the back of his mind. He was reeling from the pain shooting up his arm like electricity. 

With a loud huff John released him. “Something ain’t right with this one. I’m sure half the hall has smelled him by now. They’re gonna be asking questions.”

Now it was the blonde’s turn to approach. He was cautious but he stood beside Jimmy’s hunched frame as if he meant to protect him. What a dizzying turn of events.

“Tell them it’s nothing to worry about!” He offered.

John crossed his arms over his broad chest and bore his eye’s into Jimmy’s. "Don’t let him go anywhere. He’s coming with us so I can keep an eye on him. If he dies on the way, so be it.“ And with that he turned and headed into Jorrvaskr to gather his things.

That left Jimmy and Robert huddled together awkwardly under the pouring rain. Jimmy cradling his swelling wrist to his chest and Robert apologizing over and over for John’s actions… an assassin and the would-be-assassinated.


	5. Edema

“Let me see,” Robert said with genuine concern in his eyes. 

Jimmy’s left wrist had bloated and was covered in a ring of purple bruises. He was holding it to his chest like a dog favoring an injured paw. It took a great deal of effort to keep from whimpering like one too. Where had his dignity gone? He was supposed to be this deadly force born out of fire and shadow. Now, though, he was struggling not to tremble as he offered his appendage to the blonde Nord. 

He knew he should’ve taken the time to learn some of that Restoration magic when he had the chance. After joining up with the Brotherhood, though, he reasoned that if he could deal enough damage without taking any, he wouldn’t need the extra schooling. “Nothing beats a well placed Destruction spell,” Festus Krex had assured the dark elf back at the sanctuary. And it had worked out for him until now, that is. Hindsight is always crystal clear.

Robert’s hands were warm as he guided the two of them to stand under the roof of the pavilion and out of the rain that was still coming down in sheets. Jimmy’s clothes clung to his thin frame like a freezing second skin. He wanted nothing more than to strip out of them and sit by a fire for a while.

Pain shot through his arm and ripped down his spine like talons as the Nord tweaked his wrist to examine it from another angle. The dark elf hiccuped and reflexively jerked away which only tugged at the inflamed tendons further.

“Gods I’m so sorry,” Robert whined as he loosened his grip. 

Jimmy took a shuddering breath and nodded. This was all his own doing; he had no one to blame but himself. 

“I know these aren’t ideal circumstances,” Robert said, still cradling Jimmy’s hand in his own like he didn’t really know what to do with it. "But I suppose I should introduce myself?“

Jimmy almost laughed. What an absolutely absurd situation. He kept the line of his lips taut to fight the urge to blurt out that he did, in fact, know exactly who this man was.

"I’m Robert Plant, but some of my friends call me Percy. And that was John Bonham who just went inside. Most people call him Bonzo, though.”

Jimmy got the feeling that it was by no means an invitation to refer to John by his nickname. Considering he wasn’t most people. He certainly wasn’t a friend.

"He’s really a good guy. He’s got a great heart, but he can be a little… impulsive.“ Robert hurried to add.

Somehow the sentiment didn’t make the throbbing agony in his wrist go away.

The Nord shifted his weight from side to side. Jimmy remembered seeing him do that earlier. 

"And is your name really James Page?”

“Yes, it really is.” The dark elf snapped. He ripped his hand from Robert’s and held it to his chest again, ignoring the pain that bloomed into his shoulder. He hadn’t liked the suspicious tone in Robert’s voice.

Now though, as the blonde flinched away, he knew he wasn’t exactly being fair. He should, by all rights, be dead. Robert was the only reason he was still standing there breathing. He wasn’t in the position to be copping an attitude especially if, gods forbid, John overheard and decided to come out here and crush him to bits after all. It was astounding how deep a man could dig his own grave.

He met Robert’s wounded expression from under his eyelashes and tried again. "Yes, my name is James Page, but you can call me Jimmy.“

It was a weak apology at best, but the Nord seemed to accept it regardless. He beamed down at the ashen skinned elf, sporting that gap on the side of his mouth.

"Nice to meet you, Jimmy.”

A wave of dread soaked into Jimmy’s bones. There was no way he was going to escape this mess without getting blood on his hands. Who’s blood that would be, he wasn’t sure, but he could already smell its metallic bite.

The door to Jorrvaskr opened with a loud groan and both men whipped around to see John lumbering towards them with his warhammer and a bulging knapsack over his shoulder. Jimmy felt the need to stand up straight in his presence. In contrast, Robert seemed to visibly relax as if he’d been on edge before. Maybe the dark elf had unsettled him after all. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“We have to get going, Aela’s asking a lot of questions. I don’t want her getting Kodlak involved.” John addressed Robert as if there wasn’t a third person standing just beside him. 

“We have to get something for Jimmy’s wrist first. I think there’s a place right-”

“Jimmy?” John spat. “You named it?” 

The dark elf felt his nostrils flare. 

“Come on, don’t you think you’ve abused him enough?” The blonde put his hands on his hips. “Look at him, he’s drenched. His hand’s a right mess.”

The Companion was unmoved. “Maybe he should’ve considered the consequences before he climbed up on the roof in the pouring rain to look for his balls.”

They were bickering like a married couple, Jimmy thought to himself. He really was cold, though, and he was certainly in a lot of pain. Part of him wanted Robert to convince the brute. Another part of him was incredibly put off by the thought of accepting help from said brute.

The two Nords went back and forth for a while, the elf’s eyes darting from one to the other until finally John threw his hands up in frustration. He set down his bag and the massive hammer before stomping over to a nearby bench. 

“Bonz? What are you doing?” Robert asked.

There was a sharp snap as the Companion tore a wooden plank from the seat and broke it in half over his knee. He approached Jimmy in the same way that he had just before he busted his wrist.

He went to take a step back but John was upon him a moment later. The Companion seized his arm roughly in that iron grip to hold him in place. He handed the wooden piece to Robert who took it with a bewildered look on his face. Jimmy’s expression went from one of confusion to one of unadulterated horror as the dark haired Nord’s fingers squeezed and pulled at the bruised tissue of his wrist. He ground his teeth to keep from crying out while John continued to poke and prod, clearly looking for something. 

“Stay still,” the Nord growled and Jimmy swallowed thickly. 

John braced his thumb and index finger on either side of the elf’s wrist. With an audible crack, Jimmy saw stars and felt his knees turn to jelly. He was only partially aware of Robert’s hand moving to cover his mouth and muffle the, “Gods,” that he uttered under his breath. 

The dark elf told himself to breathe as John set the piece of wood against the underside of his palm and forearm, then tied it in place with strips of linen that he dug out of his bag. 

“There,” the Companion huffed as he picked up his things. “Can we go now?”

“Ah yeah, but his clothes?” Robert gently reminded his friend.

“Just gonna get wet from the rain all over again, Perce.” John was already walking away.

The blonde Nord took that as a pretty convincing sign that there would be no more hold ups. He moved to put a comforting hand on Jimmy’s shoulder; the Dunmer was still reeling from the impromptu medical procedure but he reflexively wriggled away from Robert’s touch like his hand was the plague.

The trio stepped back into the downpour and made their way to the stables, just outside the gates of Whiterun. 

They passed a blacksmith’s shop and Jimmy had the urge to slip away for a moment and grab the satchel of supplies he’s stashed in an inconspicuous barrel nearby. He knew he had an extra change of clothing in there; some potions, which would help numb the pain in his arm; a couple vials of lotus extract, an extremely potent poison; and some food. For the sake of maintaining the image of innocence, however, he kept walking. He had no idea when he’d be able to return, if he did at all.

The smell of horses and oiled leather filled the air as they approached the Whiterun stables. The pastures were vacant and all the stablehands must have retreated inside. They approached a line of stalls, all seven of them occupied. 

Robert wasted no time approaching a chestnut mare who was busy nibbling on the walls of her stall. He stroked the blaze that ran from her ears to the tip of her muzzle and tutted at her with a stupid grin on his face.

Meanwhile, John turned to Jimmy. “You got a horse?”

He did. The black stallion was back at the sanctuary, no doubt pestering Astrid for apples. Shadowmere was known to do that persistently. Jimmy doubted the Companion cared to know anything about that, though.

“No, but I can ride.” He responded.

John snorted under his breath. “Well you’re not riding with me. Ask Robert. If he says no, you’re walking.” 

“Who’s walking where?” Robert turned to face them, his cheek pressed up against the mare’s whiskery snout.

“Page is, unless he can get a ride.”

“I don’t think Georgie would mind helping out a bit,” the blonde giggled as the horse took to munching on his curls. “Would you, lass?” Georgie snuffled quietly. 

“Lucky you, elf. Try not to fall off.” John said with thinly veiled disgust.

The Companion strode to the horse that Jimmy assumed was his. It was a paint with a silvery mane and a massive chest. 

Nearly all the horses in Skyrim were draft breeds. Tall and wide, slower than most, with incredible endurance. John’s steed look particularly imposing, though. Figured.

Jimmy watched as the two Nords saddled their horses and prepared to head out. Robert took his time combing out Georgie’s inky mane and tail and leaning over to whisper sweet nothings in her ears. 

Once they were both ready, Robert helped Jimmy into the saddle, careful of his splinted arm, before climbing up behind him. It felt completely ridiculous, to put it gently. 

The dark elf had never ridden a horse like this and he was certain that he never wanted to again; they hadn’t even taken a step yet and he hated it. Robert was entirely too close. His arms were settled against either side of Jimmy’s waist to grip the reins and the elf could feel the rising and falling of the Nord’s chest against his back. 

“Shall we be off then?” Robert asked and Jimmy felt his breath ghost against his hair. 

Bonzo whistled sharply and his horse strode out of the stable and into the rain. Robert and the captive followed closely behind and soon they were off at a canter. Jimmy held his injured arm to his chest and gripped Georgie’s withers for dear life with his free hand, Robert’s body rocking into his in a completely obscene fashion. 

Winterhold was a long, long ways away and the elf was unsure of how much of this journey he’d be able to take before he just keeled over and died. He still had a contract to complete and he tried not to let the weight of that reality sink into his flesh like the pouring rain already had. 

Sithis, save him.


	6. Conflagration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be warned that this chapter contains brief mentions of an attempted rape of a minor.**

Three days. It was three days before the rain finally let up and the sun began to shine. 

Their clothing had dried and their boots no longer squeaked with moisture but now the three travelers smelled like sweat and stale rain water. 

In those three days, they had only stopped twice to sleep. The rest of the time had been spent riding endlessly over the grassy tundra of Skyrim. None of them had eaten a proper meal since before they set out and it was clear by the angry rumbling of their bellies that they were going to have to find some real sustenance soon.

“We’re making good time,” John said slowing his horse to a walk.

It was just past midday and both steeds were covered in a sheen of sweat after galloping under the glaring sun all morning. 

“Why don’t we stretch our legs for a bit. We can set out again once it cools down.”

They stopped at the base of a little valley and began to unload. The horses were tied to a thick tree branch once their saddles were removed and then Robert and John set to digging through their respective bags for supplies.

“We’ll be back soon. Stay here and watch the horses. If you leave, you’re a dead man and I’ll know if you try.” the hulking Nord warned. He gestured to his broad nose, reminding Jimmy of his superior sense of smell.

Werewolves, the dark elf griped to himself.

Once he was alone, he let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Finally, solitude for the first time since he’d been roped into this adventure.

Brom, the Companion’s color splashed stallion, was eyeing the elf warily as if he were an extension of John’s very being. It seemed he couldn’t so much as sneeze without permission.

Robert’s horse, however, seemed relaxed in his presence. It surely had a good deal to do with the fact that she’d been carrying both her owner as well as Jimmy all this way. If she didn’t like him, the elf figured, she wouldn’t have tolerated him for so long. Her bottom lip slackened and she was blinking slowly as if she were beginning to doze off.

Jimmy felt sore everywhere. He wasn’t accustomed to riding nonstop for days on end. Especially not with another person pressed up against him the entire time. It wasn’t very comfortable, and gods if it wasn’t brilliantly humiliating, but Jimmy couldn’t deny that he was grateful for Robert’s body heat during the cold nights. 

“You can sleep if you want to,” he could still hear the Nord’s soft voice against his ear as they rode into the wee hours of the morning. “I won’t let you fall off.”

The dark elf stretched his stiff joints and was rewarded with a symphony of satisfying pops. He wanted desperately to wash the sweat and dirt from his skin before doing anything else. Figuring the two Nords wouldn’t be back for a bit, he set out to search for a stream or something of that nature. 

There was a pool of fresh water just over the crest of a little hill and Jimmy made quick work of undressing. He could still see the horses from where he now sat waist-deep. It was cold, and he could feel goosebumps bloom over his ashen skin as he wet his hair, but it was much better than another minute spent in those stinking clothes. 

As he carefully untied the splint to wash his broken wrist, the dark elf lamented that he had nothing else to change into. He would have to wash them one-handed and then set them out to dry. 

The whole process was incredibly time consuming, and Jimmy spent the entirety of it stealing glances over his naked shoulder in the hopes that Robert and John wouldn’t come upon him in all his nude glory.

His ebony hair was still dripping as he took the horses by their bridles to the pool to wash them down next. 

A cool breeze was stirring in the valley and the sun was beginning its descent from the sky. Jimmy sat on a flat boulder with his chin cupped in his good hand. His hair, now almost dry and beginning to curl, hung in his eyes like a curtain. The pain in his wrist had come back in earnest after his botched struggle to put the splint back in place; all he’d really managed to do was aggravate the injury. It hung crookedly from his forearm that rested limply in his lap. 

Brom and Georgie were grazing nearby and Jimmy watched them absentmindedly. He imagined himself hopping onto one of them and riding off to the sanctuary. He could tell Astrid that things weren’t going according to plan and he needed more time to regroup after he healed. It certainly wasn’t a lie. 

Knowing her, she’d probably pinch her lips together in irritation and deem him unfit to do the job. She’d say he risked too much and went way out of line, giving his name up and letting himself be taken like a prisoner of war. She’d give the job to one of his Brothers or Sisters and hand him something menial to work on instead. If she didn’t banish him entirely, that is.

He couldn’t bear the thought of someone else getting the contract. This was his privilege, his right. The breeze stirred his hair and his gut twisted in a funny way. The dark elf found himself curling inwards. He felt lightheaded. 

A blood splattered image flashed before his eyes. Robert Plant, face down in a field with the back of his skull caved in. His arm twisted wickedly and his blonde curls matted with dirt. Glassy eyes. Teeth knocked loose and resting on a motionless, pale tongue. 

Jimmy felt bile rise in his throat and he managed to lean over the side of the rock before he was violently ill into the grass. He dared not move, dry heaving until his chest ached.

He heard voices approaching and the dark elf hurried to maneuver himself into a more natural sitting position after wiping his lips with the back of his hand. 

“See? I told you he wouldn’t go anywhere!” Robert, still very much alive, nudged John’s shoulder playfully as they crested the hill. 

John was dragging a massive buck by its antlers across the grass like it was weightless. The feathered tip of an arrow protruded just behind one of its ears.

Robert was hefting a curved bow over his shoulder and carrying a bundle of logs in his arms. His golden mane was damp and he had changed into a blue tunic, leather breeches, and belted boots. Jimmy figured the two of them must have found somewhere to bathe as well. He wondered offhandedly if they were friendly enough to bathe together. The elf blanched. Why in Oblivion had that thought even crossed his mind?

He was about to entertain that train of thought further when his stomach growled viciously. Tossing up what little food he’d eaten didn’t do much to quell the hunger pains he had been trying to ignore. 

He leapt up from his seat to meet the two Nords who were now huddled together over a haphazard pile of wood. The horses continued to mow the grass contentedly. 

John sat back on his heels, his brows pulled together in frustration. “I can’t believe I forgot my flint.” he groaned. "Perce, you don’t think you could-“

"No, Bonzo. Not here.” Robert interrupted sharply. He noticed Jimmy approaching them and glanced at him sheepishly. 

“I could help?” The dark elf offered, casting a wary look at the blonde. 

The Companion looked like he wanted to bark some sort of retort but thought better of it as he snapped his mouth shut. He gave Jimmy a noncommittal shrug.

Taking that as permission to proceed, the elf inhaled slowly and extended the open palm of his right hand to the base of the wood pile. He hadn’t done this in a while and it felt odd with two pairs of expecting eyes watching him, but soon enough, that familiar warmth washed through his core and branched into his limbs. His head swam with heat, and for a moment he wanted to lose himself in the feeling but he refocused as Festus had taught him and as he let his breath slip from his lips, red flames shot forth from his palm and clung to the waiting firewood. 

Both Robert and John jumped back and they maintained their distance until the heat stopped pouring from the dark elf’s flesh. Before them now sat a crackling fire and Jimmy fought the proud smile spreading across his lips. 

John tried to look unimpressed.

“Good job, Pagey!” Robert clapped merrily. 

Jimmy heard the blonde refer to him as such the night before, but he figured Robert was just the kind of person to mumble silly things when he was tired. He hadn’t realized the name would stick. Well… he’d been called worse.

Once it was decided that he could be of use, John ordered the elf to help him skin the buck and prepare it for cooking. Robert took over once the meat had been stripped and a cooking pot was situated over the fire. The Companion wandered off to collect the horses that were still roaming freely and Jimmy went to the little pool to wash the blood and fur from his fingers. He never heard Robert walk up behind him.

“Looks like your apparatus is coming undone,” the Nord said. 

The splint on Jimmy’s arm was hindering his movement more than anything at this point as it hung loosely from the wrappings. If he moved too quickly, the wooden piece threatened to jab him in the ribs. The last thing he needed was another injury to slow him down. Without any weapons other than his pyrotechnics, speed would be the only thing he could rely on if danger were to arise. 

“Um… yeah,” the elf responded intelligently.

He let Robert take his arm gently and the blonde tsked. 

“This won’t do at all. The linen’s all soggy and frayed.” He looked into Jimmy’s eyes for silent approval before untying the limp strips of fabric. After looking around for something, and clearly not finding it, Robert set Jimmy’s naked arm down and reached for his own tunic that hung well past his slim hips. Jimmy went to protest as he tore the extra material to shreds but the Nord hushed him politely. 

His touch was surprisingly delicate as he reattached the splint, careful not to press to hard on the swollen flesh of Jimmy’s wrist. When he was done he smiled warmly and patted the elf’s shoulder before getting up to tend the meat that was cooking away in the pot. 

Jimmy watched him go; the feeling of his hands on the elf’s silvery skin lingered like a whisper.

Dusk was beginning to seep over the valley when the trio sat down around the fire to eat. The flames had settled a bit but it continued to pump out a cozy wave of heat.

“Have you been to Winterhold before, Bonzo?” Robert asked before biting into his venison.

“Only once. I was sent to run an errand for the Guild.” the Companion replied.

“What about you, Jimmy?”

It was the first time he’d been actively invited to join one of their conversations and despite his best efforts, the elf couldn’t help the slight jump in his heartbeat. He felt a bit less like an outsider. Though he wasn’t sure if that was really a good thing or not.

“No,” he said. "I don’t care much for the cold weather to the north.“

"Are you from Skyrim?” Robert asked.

Jimmy shook his head and took sudden interest in his dinner. He was happy that he wasn’t being blatantly ignored anymore but he didn’t really feel like spouting the story of his origins. It wasn’t exactly ‘dinner appropriate’ talk. The Nord seemed to take the hint and didn’t question him further. Instead, he turned his attention back to Bonzo.

“So this healer that we’re going to see, what’s he like?”

“He’s very quiet. Doesn’t talk too much if he doesn’t have to and he spends a lot of time alone. He’s great at what he does, of course, but don’t expect him to be all warm and cuddly when you first meet him.” John chuckled low in his throat.

“That’s okay, sometimes people need time to open up. Nothing wrong with that,” Jimmy pretended he didn’t notice the sidelong glance that Robert cast towards him.

The elf was no longer listening to their conversation. He watched the flames of the campfire dance sporadically and thought of his homeland. 

Morrowind was a cruel place made of ash and dust and fire. Jimmy wasn’t there when Red Mountain erupted but he saw the damage left in its wake. The land, stripped of anything hospitable, his fellow Dunmer were forced to leave for more fertile and forgiving lands. The discrimination his people faced from all ends of Tamriel as their misfortunes piled up. His was a childhood of peril. Orphaned at a young age, Jimmy knew he couldn’t stay in one place for very long. He had blurry memories of frantic nights spent hiding from the invading Argonians, fleeing as soon as he could only to start all over again.

He ran and ran and ran until he found himself in Skyrim. Poor, homeless, and hated for his lineage, for the fire that burned in his veins, a fire passed down from his ancestors. 

He made his first kill when he was cornered by a pair of Nords just outside the city of Windhelm. They were harassing him, pulling at his ratty clothes, spitting profanity in his face. One of them held his hands behind his back while the other cut his trousers to shreds and let his vile fingers wander. Jimmy had been so scared, so blindingly angry…

He didn’t mean to really, it just kind of happened. He felt his bloodstream start to burn, his skin began to tingle. He tasted smoke on his tongue. It all happened so fast. In the darkness of that night, James Page illuminated. His skin oozed fire until he was coated in it, safe and warm underneath the raging flames while his assailants screamed and fell away. They were orange balls of heat flailing in the dark until they charred and fell to the ground, unmoving.

Sobbing, and shaking, snot bubbling from his nose, Jimmy approached their bodies. They were blistered and black, eyes melted from their sockets. It felt… good. Natural, even. Like it was all meant to happen. 

Astrid found him soon after and took him in. Cleaned their filthy touches from his skin and murmured into his pointed ears that she understood. She gave him clothes and a bed to sleep in. She gave him a family and a purpose. The Dark Brotherhood was the only good thing that had ever happened to him.

And now… he felt like he needed to run again. Maybe that’s what he was doing. Suddenly, he felt as though he couldn’t get close enough to the fire to warm the chill on his skin.


	7. Od Ahrk Sos Part I

Robert Plant couldn’t focus. He sat huddled against the wide frame of John’s torso, adjacent to Jimmy who was waving his arms over the flames of the little campfire between them. The outcropping of a cliff side shielded the group from the biting winds of the blizzard howling outside their makeshift shelter. 

Robert watched detachedly as the elf scooped the flames into his palms as easily as if he was handling sand. A look of concentration creased his brow as he pulled his hands apart and a little ball of fire flickered on each of them.

John clapped and chuckled warmly as Jimmy began to juggle the flames, tossing them up and catching them with expert precision. A genuine smile worked its way onto the Dunmer’s lips at the encouragement of the usually unamused Companion.

Robert knew he should be appreciating this. Jimmy never smiled. In the week and a half the trio had been traveling together, the elf never looked as happy as he did now. It was a completely foreign look, mysterious and beautiful like a sun shower. The Nord desperately wanted to reciprocate the display and maybe somehow encourage it subconsciously. He just couldn’t. 

His head was swimming and his stomach was roiling as he thought of what awaited him back in Falkreath. Robert felt guilty. Here he was sitting by a fire in the company of his friends, enjoying a few neat parlor tricks while his son continued to suffer. 

He was quite certain that the evening he left to begin this journey would haunt him until the end of his days. Karac’s face was flushed and his skin was clammy to the touch. He’d spent the day writhing to and fro in bed until Mo had sent for Robert. Luckily the Nord had been fishing in the lake nearby and was able to get there as fast as he did. The dear Breton was beside herself with worry as she pleaded with her ex husband to get help. 

Robert had assured her he would do anything for his boy and promised to return with aid as soon as he could. Tears welled in his eyes as Karac valiantly wrapped his little hand around his father’s fingers and refused to let go. Robert had hushed him brokenly and leaned over to place a trembling kiss on his forehead before pulling away. The anguished cry that resulted rattled in his skull now.

A week and a half was a long time for a child to go without needed medicine. They were just outside the city of Dawnstar when they pulled off the road to wait for the storm to pass. It was still another day or two of a ride before they would reach Winterhold and then gods knew how long it would take for them to get back to Falkreath. He prayed to Talos that his son would have the resolve to hold on until then though he knew it was a terribly heavy thing to expect of a boy barely over six.

The flames had died from Jimmy’s hands and he was now rubbing his palms together. There was a low hum coming from between his fingers and the tips of his digits were crackling with electricity. He said something to John who tentatively reached his own gloved hand out. 

Laughter erupted from the two as the elf touched the tip of his index finger to the center of John’s palm and the companion’s hair immediately puffed out like a black cloud.

A small sting of resentment settled in Robert’s core as he watched them playing like children. Suddenly he couldn’t bear it anymore. 

Ignoring the lump that burned in his throat, Robert stood and stormed out of the shelter and into the blinding snow. He only realized he was crying once the tears began to freeze on his cheeks. He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand and stumbled through the snow with no real purpose or direction. His boot snagged on a buried rock and the Nord fell to his knees and stayed that way. 

“Robert?” came Jimmy’s voice, muffled by the wind and snow.

“I’m sorry, Pagey,” Robert sniffled, his back still turned to the elf who was cautiously approaching. “That thing you were doing was really great I just,” he trailed off as the corner of his lips wobbled. "I needed some air.“

"Did I do something to offend you?” Jimmy was in front of him now, black hair speckled with white snowflakes. His lips were twisted in a crooked grimace and Robert’s heart sank.

“No, no… nothing like that,”

“What is it then? Or would you rather talk to John?”

Robert let out a wrecked sigh. More tears threatened to boil over and he didn’t try to stop them. "Karac,“ he sobbed. "I hate sitting idly like this while my son-” He stopped to let his cries rake through his body like the claws of a hagraven. 

Jimmy looked up at him with anguish in his eyes. He reached out as if to hug the Nord but paused and instead placed an ashen hand on his shoulder. 

“There’s no way we would have made it in this storm. We can’t see and the roads are too slippery for the horses. You do want to return to your boy in one piece right?” 

Jimmy gasped softly as Robert pulled him into a crushing embrace, burying his nose into the curve of the elf’s shoulder. The blonde was inwardly surprised by how warm Jimmy was despite the freezing air around them.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into the dark elf’s skin. 

Jimmy hesitantly brought his unsplinted hand up to rub Robert’s shoulder.

“It’s okay. You’re freezing though, so let’s get back inside alright?”

Robert hadn’t realized he’d been shivering until Jimmy pointed it out. He stepped out of the hug and nodded slowly.

Without warning, Jimmy went rigid; only his eyes moved side to side as if he were looking for something.

“What is it, Pagey?” Robert sniffled, looking around now as well. A low growl sounded from somewhere nearby and a black shadow flashed behind the elf.

“Wolves!” John shouted from the shelter.

Two more wolves flanked their leader and the three of them circled Robert and Jimmy like sharks. Their pelts were silvery and their eyes were golden and hungry. Pink lips curled over their massive canines.

One of the horses whinnied nervously.

Robert saw the orange flickering of a flame cradled in Jimmy’s fist as he poised to strike. John was creeping up from the back, warhammer in hand. The wolves drew closer, revealing their starved bodies. Vertebrae poked out from under their lupine shoulders.

One of the wolves was smaller in stature and despite looking as malnourished as the others, her belly hung low to the ground. She was nursing pups. 

“Stop,” Robert hissed. 

“What?” Jimmy snapped in response. 

“Don’t attack them,” he pleaded.

John hadn’t heard them. As the elf stood there dumbfounded, the Companion let out a feral battle cry and hefted the blunt end of his hammer over his head.

The blonde Nord pushed Jimmy over into the snow and sucked in a deep inhale before letting forth a cry that thundered through the mountains.

“KAAN DREM OV!” Ancient words poured from his lips with the force of a hurricane and for a second all was still except for the snow falling silently around them. 

The wolves paused and looked at each other. The shewolf cocked her head in Robert’s direction before snorting and walking back into the night. The other two lowered their heads and followed her. 

John was sporting a vacant expression and his warhammer lay still in the snow beside him. 

“Oh gods,” Robert wailed and ran over to his friend. 

“John, I’m so sorry!” He took the Companion’s placid face in his hands and patted his cheek as if trying to wake him. The taller Nord was blinking away the effect and trying to keep from tipping forward. Robert glanced over his shoulder at the Dunmeri man who lay sprawled in the snow, staring up at the sky. 

A sharp smack rung in his ears as John’s massive hand struck across the blonde’s face. The pain was lagged and it took a moment for the raw sting of the contact to reach him. He yelped and cupped his cheek in his hand, waiting for the pain to subside.

“Are you insane?” roared the Companion who now looked terribly lucid. 

“I’m sorry,” Robert whined weakly.

“Sorry? Anyone halfway to Rorikstead could’ve heard that!” His eyes were wild. "You’ve just advertised to any and all interested parties who you are and where to find you, and for what! A couple of dogs already on death’s door?“

Robert looked up at him hopelessly.

John sighed. "How do you plan to explain this to him?” he asked motioning to Jimmy who was looking like a drunk trying to sit up.

The Companion stormed over to the elf and yanked him to his feet. The life was starting to come back to his eyes but his legs were still wobbly. He nudged him towards the blonde who steadied him in his arms. 

“Where are you going?” Robert asked John’s back.

The warrior hefted his discarded hammer over his shoulder. "I’m gonna do a sweep of the area and make sure you didn’t pique any unwanted interests.“ And with that he stormed off, leaving Robert to cradle Jimmy’s woozy frame against his chest.


	8. Od Ahrk Sos Part II

“Dragonborn?” Jimmy tasted the word on his lips.

“Aye,” the blonde Nord nodded. His blue eyes were fixed on the dancing flames of the campfire. A fur blanket hung over his shoulders and he looked visibly spent. Jimmy had never seen Robert look so small.

The elf wasn’t terribly familiar with the mythologies of the Nords but recalled mentions of a savior who could consume the souls of dragons and use their powers. But the dragons were dead and there hadn’t been a Dovahkiin in ages now.

“It’s not something I usually tell people,” Robert laughed humorlessly. He sighed into the blanket and closed his eyes, looking utterly defeated. “I’ll bet you have some questions though, so ask me anything. I’ll do my best to explain.”

“First, did John do that to you?” the elf gestured to the massive hand-shaped redness on Robert’s cheek. 

The Nord nodded. "Can’t say I didn’t deserve it.“

"Does he usually solve his problems by injuring others?”

That earned him a deflated laugh, but it was a laugh nonetheless. “I don’t know how much you heard earlier, but he’s right. I’ve put us all in danger.”

“Well it’s a good thing we’re all capable fighters, then.“

Robert merely pressed his lips into a line and stayed silent. Gods, Jimmy couldn’t stand to see him like this. 

"What was it that you said back there? I’ve never heard that language before.”

The blonde sat up a bit straighter and pulled the blanket tighter around himself. “It’s called a thu'um, or shout,” he explained. Jimmy remembered reading that much. “What I spoke were words of power in the old language of the dragons. I drained the will to fight out of you, Bonzo, and the wolves.”

Jimmy nodded in understanding. He remembered the feeling of weightlessness in his head and the way his muscles relaxed all at once. The urge to take a little nap out there in the blizzard had been irresistible. 

“I promised Bonz I’d never use a shout on him,” the Nord moaned into his hands. 

“He’ll get over it.” Jimmy tried to soothe him from across the fire. He didn’t know John as well as Robert did of course, but he couldn’t imagine that he’d stay angry at his friend for any lengthy amount of time. There was something about the blonde that made it near impossible to hate him. 

The elf watched Robert, the way he moved as he breathed. His golden curls were darkened with moisture from the snow and his eyebrows were pulled together. He brought a calloused finger up to scratch at the whiskers beneath his nose idly and clenched his jaw taut like he was thinking about something unpleasant. Jimmy knew the feeling well.

“Did you always know you were the Dragonborn?” He ventured the question hoping to find more about what was going on the Nord’s head.

He didn’t, Robert explained. He supposed he was born with it as all the previous Dovahkiin were but he hadn’t the slightest idea about it until three years ago and after that he did his damndest to keep the truth hidden. “It is an honor in my culture to be Dovahkiin,” Robert said in a way that suggested nothing would have disappointed him more. "And by that I mean everyone, everywhere, always needs your help or wants you dead.“

The Dunmer’s breath hitched in his throat. "What makes you different then, from someone like Ulfric Stormcloak? He can shout and yet he’s not Dragonborn.”

It was news to no one that Ulfric, Jarl of Windhelm, leader of the Stormcloak rebellion, had murdered the high king with a thu'um of some sort.

“Anyone can learn to shout with the right schooling and enough practice. But only a Dragonborn has the power to kill a dragon and ensure that it cannot be reborn.”

The Nord paused and gazed at Jimmy with a stony look in his eyes.“I know Ulfric on a rather intimate level actually,” he continued and the elf quirked an eyebrow. “I was there moments before he was to be executed. He was next in line after me.”

“You were going to be executed?” Jimmy asked incredulously.

“I was out hunting when they captured me along with Ulfric and his men. They thought I was one of the rebels. I didn’t want anything to do with this civil war; I still don’t.” the Nord laughed bitterly. “I was bent at the block, my executioner had raised the axe over my head when I saw my first dragon.”

Not just any dragon either, Robert recalled. It was Alduin the World Eater, the bringer of the Endtimes. The very dragon he, as dragonborn, was destined to slay for the benefit of mankind.

“That dragon is the only reason I’m still alive. Ironic, huh?”

“Why you, though? Why can’t Skyrim muster all of its troops and hunt down Alduin together?” To ask that of one man seemed ludicrous.

“That’s because even if they did manage to kill the damned monster, and I don’t think they could considering their hesitancy to work together on anything, Alduin would just come back. Even if it took years, he would return. The Dovahkiin absorbs the dragon’s very soul into his own being and draws power from it so there is nothing to resurrect. That’s why, when the time comes, I have to do it alone.”

Why hadn’t he realized it? This was the answer all along, why he’d been sent after this man in the first place. It had nothing to do with Robert as a person- his personality, his morals, or what lay in his heart. It was simply because he possessed an immense amount of power which as could be expected, made others fear and resent him. Nord or not, did those who wished him dead not realize he was the only hope Tamriel had for survival?

Jimmy was angry at himself. He had given himself up to the first person to show him any kindness, forced to shove away his own opinions and morals. It dawned on him that Astrid most definitely didn’t love him in the way that two people who genuinely care about each other do. Hers was conditional love. He did her bidding and she kept him alive. What had she said when he was given his contract? Something about how he never asked questions?

Jimmy didn’t notice he was glowering until Robert brought his attention back to the present. “You alright?”

“Yes,” he lied.

Robert yawned behind his hand and he sunk deeper into the blanket.

“You should get some sleep, I’ll keep watch.” the elf offered.

Muttering a quiet thanks, the blonde stretched out beside the crackling fire and closed his eyes. 

Hours passed before the flames had died to a red glow and Jimmy was beginning to nod off. John still wasn’t back from wherever he’d run off to and the elf was struggling to keep his eyes open. He needed some fresh air to wake his mind.

Robert lay still, his back pressed against the rocky mountain side they’d built the shelter around. Quiet snores seeped from his sleeping frame and Jimmy did his best not to wake him on his way out. 

The wind had settled down and the snow was falling slowly. John’s horse pawed the ground as the elf approached them. He could still see the linen drape of the makeshift tent beside him as he rubbed Brom between his ears. 

“Where’s your rider, huh?” he asked the horse.

The only response he received was a doe-eyed stare. The elf sighed and patted the stallion’s shoulder. 

A shadow seemed to float across the mountain pass and a feeling of foreboding washed over the Dunmer. Something felt off and out of place but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He reasoned that it was probably just exhaustion muddling his senses. The horses were calm and the air was silent. Jimmy ventured a glance at the campsite. The faint orange glow of the embers as well as the lumpy shadow of Robert’s blanketed body danced across the linen. Something else moved in there with him… As the Nord’s shadow pulsed and writhed, another, smaller one tangled with it.

There was someone in the tent with Robert.

Nearly tripping over his own feet, Jimmy tore through the snow and with adrenaline racing through his veins like fire, he tore back the sheet. There, hunched over the sleeping man was a lanky figure in red and black leathers. A Dark Sister. Her long hair obscured her face as she turned to meet Jimmy’s. A wild smile contorted her mouth and she twirled a dagger in one hand to test its weight.

In a frantic blur of panic and rage, Jimmy Page dove to shield Robert’s body with his own as the assassin plunged the knife down. It sank into the elf’s skin instead, finding its mark in the meat of his shoulder. 

He cried out in agony and rolled to meet the assailant. Her face was familiar and he was sure he’d seen her before at the sanctuary in passing.

“Well now isn’t this a surprise,” she hissed, drawing another blade from her hip and leveling it at Jimmy’s face. “James Page.”

Robert was now very much awake, shrinking against the wall and watching the exchange with shock. There was a strange woman in the tent with them, wielding a dagger, and then Jimmy who was panting from his mouth and bleeding from his shoulder where the grip of a knife protruded from his skin. She’d called him by his name.

“Elisabeth the Mad, am I remembering correctly?” Jimmy sneered. Never breaking eye contact with her, he gripped the hilt of the knife in his flesh and swallowed thickly. 

The woman licked her lips as she watched him tear it free with a trembling arm and a pained yell. "Smart boy,“ she purred.

The blade was painted crimson with his own blood and he snarled. The elf desperately wanted to look back at Robert or say something to him but he feared what might happen if he took any fraction of his attention off the assassin before him.

"What are you doing here, who sent you?” He ignored the screaming pain in his shoulder and inched towards her.

“Oh please, Brother, can’t a girl do as she likes without being ordered around?”

“I am not your Brother!” Jimmy roared. He could feel the flames licking the underside of his skin, threatening to push out from his pores. He knew it would feel so good to curl his hand around her throat and let the heat run through him and flay her alive.

“Oh my,” Elisabeth breathed. "Could it be that you’re scared of what our darling Astrid would say if she could see you now? What she would do if she discovered that you don’t have the guts to finish what you’ve been sent to accomplish?“

Eyes burning and limbs trembling Jimmy lunged at the woman and the two of them rolled out into the falling snow. She sprung into a crouch as the elf struggled to his feet, channeling the flames through his splinted arm.

"I heard your little friend, you know. That’s how I knew I was right to track you. Everyone back home has been wondering what’s taking so long.”

Blood dribbled down his back and into the snow. “Shut up!”

“Imagine my surprise to see you fraternizing with him.” She licked her lips again, circling him like the wolves from before.

“Imagine,” she giggled, “Astrid’s surprise when his head comes back in my arms, and not yours!”

“Shut up shut up!” With a burning fist he snatched her by her hair and yanked her to his chest. She spat and shrieked like a feral cat, wildly ripping the air with her dagger. The smell of singed hair stung Jimmy’s nostrils.

“Wait till I tell Astrid about this!” She shrieked and continued to struggle in his arms.

With a steadying breath, Jimmy held her tightly and sunk her dagger deep into her heart. “You’re not going to tell her a damn thing,” he whispered into the shell of her ear and twisted the blade.

She gurgled weakly and went limp. The elf let her slip to the frozen ground beneath them, bathing the snow in a red shower. 

Jimmy’s chest was heaving and he was shaking violently as he looked down at her body. A black hand print adorned the back of her leathers. The same hand print that Jimmy had worn on his own armor for years now. He smelled blood- Elisabeth’s as well as his own. The tunic he wore clung to his skin and his shoulder throbbed numbly. Everything felt fuzzy and far away. 

By the time the elf sauntered back into the shelter, dawn was beginning to rise over the mountains.

Robert, who had watched the entire exchange in a state of shock was pressed into the corner and he watched Jimmy with suspicion and fear. “She called you brother.”

“I’m not her brother.”

“But you’re,” he paused to choose his words carefully, “You’re like her, aren’t you? An assassin?” Robert’s voice broke.

“Robert,” Jimmy began but the Nord shook his head and smiled up at him ruefully.

“Makes sense now, that day you were on the roof. You’re here to kill me, right?”

Jimmy had no words. No excuses to dig himself out of this, not that he was ever good at coming up with those anyway. A gnawing blackness in the pit of his stomach threatened to consume him entirely as all he could do was watch Robert watch him. 

The Nord’s voice was trembling and his blue eyes looked misty. "I don’t know why you haven’t done something by now but I must ask you for something. I understand you have a duty to fulfill but so do I. Please… let me get help for my son and then I won’t fight you. Let me do my duty as a father?“

"No,” Jimmy murmured. This was unbearable. 

“No?” Robert hiccuped.

“I’m not going to kill you, Robert.” He crawled over to where the blonde cowered and cupped his face in his trembling hands. “I’m afraid I just don’t have it in me to do so.” The elf searched Robert’s eyes for a sign that he would attack. All he saw though, was confusion and sadness.

Jimmy let go and sat back on his heels feeling a wave of emotion take him over. The Nord’s adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.

“I was sent to kill you. That’s what I had planned to do at Jorrvaskr but I couldn’t. I lost my nerve and then I fell.” Once he started speaking, he couldn’t stop. Jimmy was crying helplessly and words were spilling out of his mouth like boiling tears as he divulged everything to Robert. About the exodus from his homeland, and the nights spent alone. Jimmy told him of Astrid and how she raised him to kill like a good Brother. How being with Robert and John made him forget about the Brotherhood and how free he felt without it. He was still sobbing and rambling on when Robert pulled the elf into his lap and held him there. 

“That was the final straw,” Jimmy breathed shakily into the Nord’s shirt. “I can’t go back now.” He was eight years old again and homeless as he pulled himself from Robert’s arms.

The Nord’s face was unreadable. "Can I really trust you?“

Jimmy took Elisabeth’s dagger from his boot and handed it to Robert. "If at any point, you doubt me, kill me.” He hung his head and lifted his arms in a show of surrender. Robert knew everything and it’s not like he could go anywhere now. He would welcome death if only to escape the fate that awaited him when Astrid inevitably found out what happened. He closed his eyes as he waited for Robert to make the next move.

A pair of hands tangled in his hair and warm lips melded against his. Jimmy wasted no time wrapping his arms around Robert’s neck and returning the kiss with fervor. His injured shoulder throbbed sharply in protest and fresh blood leaked from the wound but Jimmy needed this. Robert’s mouth was gentle and moved perfectly against his and he couldn’t help the soft sound of loss when the Nord pulled away.

“You really do like me, don’t you, Pagey?” Robert was breathless.

“I don’t take a knife for just anybody.” The pain in the elf’s shoulder was becoming insistent as his level of adrenaline crashed. He felt completely spent.

At that, Robert began frantically digging through his bags for medical supplies. He pulled out some wrappings and a small leather pouch. Jimmy shed his blood soaked tunic and his skin bristled with goosebumps in the frigid air. 

The two froze as the linen wall of the tent pulled back and there stood a sweating, panting John Bonham. “What in Oblivion happened here?” he demanded.

Jimmy was about to attempt to explain himself but Robert beat him to it. “An assassin from the Dark Brotherhood snuck up on us but Jimmy took care of her.”

“Dark Brotherhood? I can’t leave you two alone for a minute without some disaster taking place can I?”

“A minute!” Jimmy snapped. “You’ve been gone all bloody night!”

John just shrugged unapologetically. “Speaking of bloody, what’s with all of this?” he motioned to the stained tunic and the glaring wound on the elf’s shoulder. Robert tossed the assassin’s dagger in the Companion’s direction.

“She landed a pretty good hit on him.”

The dark haired Nord sighed through his nose. “Alright let me look at it.”

He bent to examine the wound and Jimmy went rigid. Glancing down at the splint on his arm and the fading bruises on his wrist, he recalled the last time John had performed a medical procedure on him.

The elf grimaced as John wiped the blood from his skin with a linen cloth, dampened in the snow. 

“You are one lucky elf.” the Companion decided. “No poison or infection in there but it’s deep. Robert, have you ever sewn up a wound? I’d do it myself but my fingers aren’t as nimble as yours.”

Robert was suddenly looking nauseous and Jimmy wished the Nord had killed him when he had the chance.

Unsurprisingly, it was an arduous and excruciating process for all the parties involved. Jimmy spent the hour or so clenching everything to keep from crying out or moving around. Robert did his best to steady his hand and not vomit when the elf’s blood seeped between his fingers and made the needle slippery. John watched closely and repeated instructions as if he was talking to a child. 

By the time it was over, everyone was incredibly sweaty and exhausted but at least Jimmy’s wound was now sealed shut with a couple of crooked sutures. He was just putting his ruined tunic back on when John left to saddle the horses.

“M'sorry about all that,” Robert said once they were alone.

“No, it’s fine. Thank you for doing it, I’m sure it was pretty gross.” the elf gave him a tired smile.

Morning sunlight was peeking in through the linen drape and the snow had just about stopped. They were to ride to Dawnstar immediately. John promised they would be able to sleep in real beds there before they continued on.

Robert finished packing the blankets and bed rolls, now turning to Jimmy who stood there limply. He put his hand on the Dunmer’s shoulder before bending forward to kiss him. It lasted no more than a few moments. Robert stepped away hesitantly and without another word he left to help John with the horses.

Jimmy had been tasked with disposing of the assassin’s body which he found quite fitting. With the warmth of the Nord’s lips still on his, he set to work.

Her skin had taken on an odd shade of blue and she remained rigid when Jimmy nudged her side with the toe of his boot. Dragging her somewhere would be far too taxing. Instead he decided to burn her beyond recognition; no one would know who she was or what she belonged to. In his state of exhaustion, Jimmy struggled to channel healthy flames from his palms. They sputtered and died out a few times but after a bit of coaxing, he was able to muster the rest of his strength and divert it towards the task at hand.

Robert and John waited with the horses as Jimmy stood before his Sister and burned her body until all that was left was a charred mass of something only vaguely humanoid.


End file.
